The Spaces Between
by OffOnAComet
Summary: Zam and Jango go to Seylott to return the Infant of Shaa where things end up taking an unexpected turn.


**My original idea for this was only a few paragraphs long; more of a one-**_**short**_** than a one-**_**shot. **_**Then**__**I started typing it out and it turned into something bigger. **

**For anyone who has not read the graphic novel 'Zam Wesell', this is an expanded version of the scene where Zam and Jango return the Infant of Shaa to the planet it was stolen from after they stopped it from being used to destroy Coruscant.**

_When you feel alone, just look at the spaces between your fingers, remember that in those spaces you can see my fingers locked with yours forever._

_- Unknown_

Zam and Jango climbed the last couple of steps to the top of the platform where the stories high carved relief towered overhead.

With a slight shake of her head Zam walked to the recess in the wall between the large cupped hands and placed the infant back on its pedestal.

"It shouldn't pose a threat again now that it's back where it belongs." She said.

The two bounty hunters stood looking at the small statue; it was hard to believe that something so small was capable of causing so much trouble.

"They Seylott I tracked here, Zam. He was trying to safeguard the idol and I killed him for doing what you just did."

Zam looked at Jango.

"I thought you were the one that said it's just a job. We don't get personally involved." She teased as she nudged him gently with her elbow.

"Is that regret I hear?"

Jango remained impassive as always.

"I don't know, maybe."

A corner of Zam's mouth angled up. There was so much more to Jango Fett than what most people saw.

Then as she turned she stopped short in surprise.

"We have company." She said softly.

Jango pivoted, his eyes widening a fraction under his helmet as he saw the massive crowd of Seylott natives. They completely covered the temple floor and stretched back to the wall of dense jungle that grew at the edge of the ruins.

Where had they come from? He and Zam hadn't been there that long; it had only taken about five minutes for the two of them to cross the worn stone of the temple floor and climb the stairs to the altar. Yet somehow, in that short amount of time, hundreds of natives had appeared.

Jango felt a trickle of sweat run down his back; the planet's humid tropical climate was accentuated by the fact that he was completely covered in armor. It would be ten times worse if they were forced to fight their way out.

His hands moved to his Westars out of habit but before he had a chance to draw Zam stopped him.

"Easy," She said as she laid a hand on his arm. "If they were going to attack us, they would have done it already."

"You didn't kill one of them." He replied.

It made sense though, when he thought about it; the natives could have attacked him and Zam while their backs were turned.

"I think we're going to get out of here without firing a shot." She said this easily, as if she were telling him that the sky was blue.

Jango didn't quite share Zam's feeling of confidence.

"That would be a first." He said skeptically, still firmly gripping his blasters.

Zam's hand slid down his arm and he glanced at her wondering what in the universe she was doing.

Loosening his left hand from the blaster handle, she threaded her gloved fingers through his.

"Trust me, Jango."

And at that moment, he did. It honestly surprised him because he wasn't one to trust easily.

Turning back towards the silently watching crowd they walked down the steps. One foot in front of the other, shoulders back, heads held high.

At the bottom of the stairs, the waiting crowd parted and let them pass without a word. The two bounty hunters continued to the edge where a hooded figure waited leaning heavily on an ancient staff.

"Still confident?" Jango questioned.

His right hand was still free and he could have gone for his other pistol at any time, but he didn't. Zam had asked him to trust her and he was doing exactly that.

As they stopped, the hooded figure in front of them spoke.

"You have brought back that which is ours. The infant had returned to the mother's womb. There it will remain. There it will be safe. We thank you." It rasped.

Zam shook her head.

"We only did what was right. The infant should never have been taken away. We're sorry for any grief you have suffered."

The creature stared back at her with its large dark eyes.

"We are not unaccustomed to grief. We are a dying people. Soon we will be gone, but now our secrets will die with us."

The creature then gestured to the jungle where the Slave I waited.

"Go in peace, but do not return."

Zam nodded to the elder.

"Thank you."

Throughout the entire exchange, Jango had been hyper aware of everything happening around him. There were the strange sounds coming from the surrounding jungle, the drone of insects in the air, the feeling of a thousand pairs of eyes on them, the sunlight filtering through the towering foliage and ruins, and the sound of the creatures gruff, sandpapery voice as it spoke.

Now, as he and Zam made their way through the undergrowth towards his ship, it was the feeling of her hand; of her fingers laced through his, and the strange warm feeling in his chest that had nothing to do with the temperature of the surrounding air.

In the beginning, she had done it to keep him from acting rashly, but the danger was over now and she was still holding on.

Why?

Jango turned his head slightly to look at her. She glanced at him and a small smile crossed her face. And that smile gave him the answer to his question.

Zam was still holding his hand because she wanted to. It was as simple as that.

That realization could have given away to a never ending stream of questions about how this could affect their working relationship, but Jango decided to stop with that; to just enjoy the moment.

The rest of their walk back to the ship jungle was spent in the same silence but through the entire trek Zam kept hold of Jango's hand tightly.

She never let go.

000000

**And there you have it. My first (published) attempt at Jam. I'm still not sure if I'm entirely happy with how it turned out but the idea came to me so it **_**had**_** to be written. **


End file.
